Chained
by acrosseverystar
Summary: Soul Evans finds himself in the possession of a slave that he doesn't want and can't get rid of. But maybe the emerald-eyed slave girl isn't as fragile as she looks, with a past that could save them both.
1. Chapter 1 - A New Home

The tinkling of the delicate chains around their ankles sounded as they walked across the stone floor, their bare feet slapping with each step. Candles flickered above them, the vaulted ceilings of the throne room swallowing majority of the light. There were a few stained glass windows distanced equally across the hallway, allowing sunlight to filter in throughout the day, leaving beautiful patchwork patterns of light on the floor.

They stopped abruptly in front of the throne, lined and spaced evenly in front of it.

There were ten girls in all, each dressed in an identical loose black dress made of itchy fabric that left their shoulders bare. It was little more than a piece of cloth, crudely sewn to cover the most essential areas, the hemline stopping a few inches from the ground.

Soft hair that had once been lovingly brushed and plaited was now dirty and limp, hanging down the shoulders and backs of the girls as a sort of curtain, a last line of defense from what lay ahead of them.

One by one, each girl was looked over and greeted and a chain of sorts placed around their neck. Some were simple wrought iron, others were more decorative.

Each girl was forced to bow before their new employer and then taken away, out the wooden doors or through the curtains behind. They would probably never see each other again.

Not that it mattered. They were bound to each other only in fear, not in companionship.

Finally, there was only the last girl left.

She was the smallest of the girls, the most delicate, but there was a fierceness about her.

Her jade green eyes stared ahead, observing everything around her with a cold indifference. Unlike the other girls, she stood with her spine completely straight and her shoulders back regally, like a girl who had never bowed to anyone in her life. She stood completely still, hands clasped tightly in front of her as though the heavy metal chains did not bother her and were there of her own choice.

Across the room, a boy who was nearly a man, stood up from his chair. Thick leather boots thudded across the stone as he crossed to the last girl, stopping just out of her line of sight. He eyed her mild curiosity, her face seeming vaguely familiar to him.

She stood patiently but if one looked closely they could see how white her knuckles were from clenching and unclenching her fists and the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.

The King inclined his head at the girl, dark eyes raking over her pale form with obvious interest. Certainly more interest than he had for the other girls. His mouth formed into a secretive grin and he turned toward his son. The older man let out a dark chuckle before standing from his throne and crossing to the girl, beckoning for his son to stand next to him.

The Prince obeyed, approaching the girl like a hunter would a frightened doe, afraid to scare her.

Father and son stood in sharp contrast. Where the father's hair was dark curls, the son's was a shock of silver white, dark, sinister eyes compared to a bright crimson. Though their heights were almost equal, they emanated different auras; the father one of pure power and control while the son seemed generally disinterested but there was sincerity in his relaxed pose.

"She's yours," the King said, his dark eyes staring straight into defiant jade orbs.

The white haired youth turned to his father in shock. "Mine? Shouldn't you give her to Wes, father?" he asked in confusion.

The Prince had spent his life in the shadow of his elder brother, which was fine by him. It gave him more freedom to do as he desired, to live without the constant scrutiny of the court. He had no responsibilities, no real duties to speak of. The prince relished his life.

Some said the younger prince was selfish, looking out only for himself instead of for his kingdom.

But the white haired youth didn't give a damn what the court thought. At least he was honest about his motives and desires.

The father shook his head, dark curls tumbling slightly over the edge of his crown. He broke into a sinister smile. "Wes already has too many servants for my taste, and with his engagement so close we should be wary of any slave . . . involvement."

The girl shuddered slightly at the King's words but her face remained a mast of perfect calm. She knew exactly what he meant by involvement.

The younger man nodded, casting a wary glance toward the girl. He had noticed her pale form shudder and he felt a wave of sympathy for her. She was probably terrified out of her mind. "I'll find a place for her," he said reluctantly after a moment.

The King looked at the small girl for a moment before speaking. "You should bow before your new master," he said with an arrogant tilt of his chin.

The girl did not move, instead staring straight ahead.

Suddenly, the King's hand struck her hard in the face and she reared back, but she did not fall to the floor.

"I said bow!" he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the room.

Tears formed around the girls eyes as the copper taste of blood entered her mouth.

Meanwhile, the white haired prince glanced between the girl and his father uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The violent display towards such a fragile young girl disturbed him, especially when it was at the hands of his own father. But the prince knew better than to voice his opinions.

Slowly, the girl's right hand fluttered up, bending at the wrist while her right foot moved in a wide arc on the floor. Her head bowed at an angle while her body sank into an effortless and graceful curtsy.

This was not the simple bow that most servants and slaves offered. This was a trained mark of devotion and loyalty, a mark of giving one's entire self to another. She was committing her body and soul to his service.

This respect was lost on the King, but the boy recognized it for what it was and he felt his heart race.

When her lithe form straightened back up, the prince coughed uncomfortably and the older man flexed his hand, relishing the feeling of striking the insolent girl.

"Excellent," the King boomed. He waved over two of his guards who each gripped the girl by the arm and escorted her out the door. "Take her to the Prince Soul's rooms, and have her cleaned up," he called after them.

An hour later, Soul found himself wandering back to his rooms, a tinge of apprehension on his mind. He ran a hand through his silver white hair in agitation as he leaned against the heavy wooden door that led to his chambers.

What was he going to do about this girl? She a responsibility, a liability, and Soul never really cared for those. He knew they were a trap, one he didn't want to get sucked into.

Soul had never really like the idea of slaves, feeling the whole idea was a bit inhumane. He knew that many members of his court kept slaves for different reasons; bodyguards, armies, labor, or anything else, but the Prince had always thought it better to have hired servants.

He turned the iron knob on the door, steeling his nerves for what could be on the other side of the door.

He hadn't prepared himself well enough.

The first thing that caught himself was pale gold. It was cascading everywhere, haloing across the furnishings of his bed. Strands tumbled across the crimson sheets, shimmering in the light from the setting sun.

Then he saw the face the waves were attached too.

It was thin and pale, but features that had once been soft were hard and blank now. Emerald eyes were clouded over and pale pink lips were pushed together in a thin line.

The fabric of her dress hung loosely, spreading around her while she sat on his bed silently, her gaze unflinching.

She looked like an angel fallen from grace, with her wings torn off; trapped on this Earth forever for a sin she did not commit.

Soul took a tentative step toward, drawn in by her unflinching gaze. He put his hand out in front of him. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. While he didn't want to keep the girl, there was no point in being rude or frightening. She had probably been through enough already. He would have to find some purpose for her.

The shackles that were bound to her wrists and ankles looked tight and he could see angry red welts around the affected skin.

She didn't move at his words so he took another step forward.

As he got closer, a glint of red caught his eyes and he looked toward her ankle. Around her right ankle was a thin gold chain, interwoven with red rubies, the same red as his eyes. He reached out to touch it, but stopped himself when he saw her flinch.

There was a sort of familiarity, a wave of nostalgia that settled over him when he saw the chain, but he shook it off.

Instead, he pulled a key from his pocket, one that had been given to him by the slave master. "Do you know what this is?" he asked her.

She did not give him an answer, but her eyes zeroed in on the metal key and she shifted slightly.

She couldn't imagine what he was getting at. She was a slave now, it wouldn't matter who she was before this. He certainly didn't owe her anything, and she didn't expect anything from this perfect stranger who wasn't actually a stranger. She would know those ruby red eyes anywhere.

"It's a key," he said slowly. "The key to the locks on your shackles."

"I know what a key is, I'm not a fool."

The words rasped out of her throat as though she hadn't used her voice in a long time, but it held an authoritative air that surprised him. He chuckled slightly, amused by her bold statement. "Yes," he conceded with a grin. He took a seat next to her on his bed and she shied away from him slightly.

She looked like a cornered animal, and yet her eyes held the same defiance.

Soul looked at her quizzically, intrigued by this walking contradiction. A slave that held the regality of a princess. A girl who defied a king until he struck her, and then offered the most heart wrenching display of physical devotion he had ever seen.

That sort of grace didn't just happen. It was taught.

"May I know your name?" he asked after a moment of silence.

The fair haired girl looked at him and her hands gripped the fabric of her dress tightly. "It's Maka," she rasped.

"Where are you from, Maka?" he asked. He genuinely wanted to know now, with a name like that.

But here the girl surprised him. She shook her head forlornly and turned her gaze to her hands in her lap. "It doesn't matter anymore. I live here now."

Soul didn't speak for a moment, unsure of how to address the pain in the girl's voice. It was obvious that she didn't want to talk about her past, and he wasn't going to force her. Instead he reached forward swiftly, grabbing the shackle on her left wrist. He pressed the key into the lock and turned it and the metal shackle fell on the bed with a soft thud.

Maka let out a gasp and Soul reached for her other wrist, repeating his previous actions. When the second shackle followed suit the girl pulled her wrists to her chest, running her fingers over the scarred and damaged skin. Blood seeped from a cut near the edge of her palm where the metal had torn into the flesh, but she didn't notice.

There was a level of satisfaction that came with this act of kindness. While it was unconventional for a slave to roam about without some kind of binding, it was not unheard of and Soul felt that he owed the girl at least this. There was too much pain in her jade green eyes for his liking and he felt struck by memories from long ago. But this feeling he also brushed aside, sweeping it under the rug of his memories that should be long forgotten.

Maka looked at Soul with tear-stained eyes and a genuine smile on her kind face, uttering two soft words that made the Prince, who was inexperienced when it came to sincere gratitude, feel a stirring within his chest.

"Thank you."

 **A/N: I know, most of my Soul Eater fics are KiMa, but I still love SoMa, so here we are. This is an idea I've been toying around with for a while and I'm happily to finally be putting it down. thanks for reading!**

 **-Wri**


	2. Chapter 2 - Noticed

Prince Soul Comedenti of the house of Evans was startled from his early morning walk to the stables by a quiet shriek and a sharp slap. The hit was followed by silence.

It was still early in the morning, the sun resting just over the horizon, and he had been planning on taking his horse for an early morning ride through a nearby valley, but at the sound of the slap he turned sharply and headed toward the source of the discontent.

"You insolent whore!"

The prince stopped in his tracks when he saw a one of the palace guards holding the pale wrist of a girl. The guard's body and heavy armor obstructed her from his view, but Soul could see from where he stood that she was back up against the wall. When the guard pulled back a leather clad arm to strike again, Soul knew he had to act.

"What do you do you think you are doing?" Soul shouted at the offending guard, stopping him dead in his tracks.

The guard half turned, a sneer on his face. When he saw the face of the Prince the sneer dropped and he yanked the wrist of the girl, shoving her towards Soul. The girl crumpled to the ground at the rough shove, landing on her knees on the harsh stone.

"This _slave,"_ the guard said with disgust, "was meandering around without a collar, and when I asked her who her owner was, she had the audacity," he said as he shot another dirty look at the girl, "to say she would be owned by _no mere man_ ," he spat.

The girl pulled herself up, putting her hands on the ground. Wisely, she chose not to stand and incur further wrath from the guard. Her ash blonde hair was unkempt and fell around her in a halo. She did not make a sound from where she knelt on the ground.

Soul sauntered over to the guard, a passive smirk plastered on his handsome features. "And you struck her for this?" he asked coolly.

"Yes, your majesty," the guard said, lowering his eyes.

"And what if," the prince asked as he stepped closer to the girl, "I told you she belonged to me?" he asked nonchalantly, taking wide strides around the guard and girl.

The girl looked up at his words and Soul immediately recognized those clear jade eyes. He had guessed correctly.

The guard gulped and shivered slightly at the implication. "I-I beg your pardon sir, I did not know. If she-"

Soul stopped his pacing and turned his crimson eyes towards the guard. " _If she what?"_

"I-I would have known she was yours if she had been wearing her collar," the man stammered. "And the anklet-"

"Anklet?"

The guard gestured to Maka's foot, pointing to the gold chain inlaid with rubies. The slave tried to hide her ankle under the fabric of her dress but she couldn't do it before the prince noticed the offending jewelry.

Soul glanced at the metal and then turned his gaze back to the guard who was standing paralyzed against the wall. "What about it?"

The man looked around nervously, avoiding the eyes of the prince and his slave. "It could be stolen. . ." he offered half-heartedly.

Soul nodded as if to agree with the man and took another step towards him. Maka watched from where she lay on the floor, slowly bringing herself up to a sitting position.

Suddenly, Soul had pushed the guard against the wall, holding him up by his collar. "If you _ever,"_ he hissed through gritted teeth, pulling his lips back in a snarl, "touch my property again, _I will kill you._ " Soul shoved the man aside roughly and the guard trembled and threw out his arms to catch himself. He bowed curtly before exiting the palace hallway, leaving a sneering prince behind.

The white-haired youth turned back toward the girl and noticed she had stood up while his back was turned. She stood before him, brushing dirt off the rough fabric of her dress.

He noticed the swelling on her cheek and grimaced internally. And yet she had not cried out in pain, nor did she complain afterward.

But why was she out here now? Soul had told her to sleep in the serving quarters adjacent to his room for the evening. Most slaves slept in the slave quarters on the first floor of the West wing, but he had offered her a place among his quarters since it had been so late and her eyes were tired with sleep.

She had looked as though she hadn't wanted to, but he figured it would be easier. Masters could choose to keep their slaves near them or within the general household of the palace.

The palace itself had a large number of slaves for it's many chorse, though there were plenty of hired servants and guards as well. Only a small retinue of the residents within the palace actually had their own personal slaves. These slaves were usually kept seperate from the castle's army of workers so as to ensure organization. Thus, the Prince had opted to keep her in one of his own adjacent compartements.

When he had woken that morning he hadn't even bothered to check for her, forgetting completely about his fragile new slave.

"I wasn't meandering," Maka said proudly, turning her chin up towards him.

Soul raised an eyebrow at the girl. "I never said you were," he answered with a lazy shrug.

"I was getting your breakfast."

"Why?"

"It's a slave's job to get their master breakfast, _sire."_

An uneasy expression settled on Soul's face. She had said the worse "sire" with obvious malice, and although he understood her resentement, it wasn't her place to show that kind of disrespect for her master. After a moment of thought he realized that he didn't really care, as long as she did what she was told he had no real qualms with her. Let her use whatever inflection she wanted.

"I wasn't going to eat anyway. I'm going on a ride for the morning, so you're free to do as you wish. Though it would be nice if someone would tidy up my living quarters and have a bath ready for me when I get back," he added with a haughty smirk.

While he didn't see any reason to be cruel to the poor girl, if he didn't give her assignments then someone else would. And knowing his father's court, they would be far less appropriate than the one's he demanded.

Maka nodded, allowing her body to relax. He wasn't going to demand anything ridiculous or impossible of her. She could do both of things easily if she tried.

Soul threw her an appraising look. "Think you can handle it, pipsqueak?" he threw over his shoulder as he began to walk away.

Maka seethed internally, her face turning red with rage at his remark. But she held her tongue, something she knew she would have to do in the time to come. She then turned on her heels, walking briskly back to the prince's apartments to prepare for his return.

00000000

While Maka knew certain areas of the palace pretty well, she had to admit that the royal quarters were still new to her. She knew they were on the third floor of the eastern wing overlooking the front courtyard, but after that she was more or less lost. She passed tapestry after tapestry, her mind drinking in the image of sunlight through the large windows between them.

She stumbled around in vain for twenty minutes, searching desperately for Prince Soul's apartments, when she was stopped by a voice behind her.

"Well look who we have here."

Her spine stiffened and her body tensed for the strike that she knew was coming. She turned her body and offered a deep curtsy in hopes of placating the man.

He took long strides toward her, his crown glimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

While they both had the same silver white hair, Maka immediately recognized the difference between this man and his younger brother.

"Crown Prince Wesley," she spoke quietly. There was venom in her words, but she tried her hardest to keep it pushed down.

He smirked at her, dark eyes flashing over her face and body. The slave felt the strongest desire to hide, but she stood her ground against this man.

The older prince sent an appraising look her way. "My, my, how the tables have turned," he muttered darkly as he circled her. "You regret you decision now, don't you?" he asked.

"I do not know of what you speak, your majesty," she said curtly. Her mind began calculating escape routes as quickly as possible but she knew there was no long term safety for her now that he had seen her face again. She had hoped that he wouldn't notice her presence in the palace, but she had been wrong. Maka knew of the hell that only he could create for her if he wanted to. She prayed that she could curb his desire for vengeance if she just kept her distance.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he taunted when he saw the defiant gleam in her eyes. "At least, not yet." He waved his hand at her and she bobbed before she was practically running. She could hear him chuckling as she slipped through the shadows, out of his grasp yet again. She knew she would not be so lucky a third time.

Maka took a sharp turn to the right and threw open the first door she saw, throwing herself inside and slamming it shut behind her. She slid down the wooden frame, her heartbeat racing in her chest.

 _That was too close,_ she thought to herself. _It was stupid of me to think he wouldn't remember. It has only been two years after all._

Before she knew it, two solitary tears were sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed them away furiously and took a deep breath, getting to her feet.

If nothing else, she had a job to do.

 **A/N: Comedenti is the latin word for Eater. Just threw that in for funsies :) I know, lot's of questions I'm sure. All in due time my sweet children, all in due time. Kind of a short chapter, I know, but the next one should be longer!**

 **Thank you for all the favorites, follows, and reviews! They've been lovely and incredibly motivating. Nothing kills my desire to write a story more than finding zero reviews for the previous chapter.**

 **-Wri**


	3. Chapter 3 - Introductions and Letters

In a land where dragons roamed freely and seers were valued, a man stood desolate.

But this was not just any man.

This was a King.

But more importantly in this case, a father.

He and his late wife had four daughters, but only the eldest looked like their mother, an almost striking similarity between the two.

The younger three daughters were loved just as much as the eldest and were practically raised by their oldest sister.

King Spirit held his youngest daughter, Angela, in his lap. The girl was only seven years old, too young to have experienced the loss of both her mother and sister.

It had been three months since their eldest daughter had disappeared. She was compassionate and strong-willed, and not to mention, the heir to his kingdom.

"Daddy," the young girl whimpered as she turned her head up towards him. "Is she ever coming back?"

Spirit held his breath as he looked at his daughter. She was so young, so innocent. He smiled softly at her, hoping to calm her fears.

"Yes, princess, she'll be home soon. And I'm sure she misses you as much as you miss her."

Angela's eyes watered at his statement and she nodded. The young princess clambered off her father's lap silently, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

All she wanted was her big sister back. It didn't matter that Elizabeth and Patricia were still at home. What mattered was that there were only three princesses now, not four.

And she never even got to say goodbye.

As the door in her father's parlor shut behind her, Spirit finally exhaled the breath had been holding in. He needed to be strong for his girls, he needed to be strong for his kingdom.

But right then, her was weak.

His little girl was gone.

He didn't know how and he didn't know why.

Hell, he didn't even know if she was coming back.

Part of him hoped that a ransom note would show up so that he could at least have an idea on where to start in rescuing his daughter. But so far, no note had shown up.

There was no trace of his heir.

They had gone months without word from her. It was enough to tear his heart into pieces.

Spirit would never be the best father, this he knew and so did his daughters. He liked to drink since the passing of his wife, and the habit had only grown worse as foreign dignitaries sent their daughters to "visit the kingdom and experience new things."

Everyone knew it was a bribe for the king to hold piece with smaller countries and communities, or to perhaps have their daughter placed on the throne as Queen.

What they didn't know was the King Spirit had no intention of declaring war without these bribes, nor did he intend to ever marry again. But they still sent their daughters anyway. They were seduced by the King, or perhaps they seduced him. Either way, they were sent home with promises and treasures just a few weeks after arrival.

But putting Spirit's womanizing nature aside, he loved his daughters more than anything, and wanted nothing but the best for them. They were individuals, and they were unique.

He put his head in his hands and sobbed, the motion causing him to place his elbows on his knees to support the weight.

"Maka," he whispered. "Are you ever coming home?"

00000000

As the only heir to a Dukedom, Kiddford*, or Kid, as his friends referred to him as, knew a lot of powerful people.

It was easy to know a lot of them when one was, in fact, a part of the same social class.

He was an attractive man, with his dark hair, clear skin, and well-cut build. But his most noticeable feature was his golden irises.

An uncommon trait, to be sure, but one that was handed down in his family for generation.

His gaze could burn with anger and passion, or they could be set in patience and kindness.

But at the moment, the golden orbs were blank.

Kid held the message in his hands, the letter that had been clearly been written in haste if it's sloppy script was any indication.

 _Dear Kiddford,_

 _Terrible news comes from our home at WhiteHall. We have not seen or heard from Maka in months. We do not know what has befallen her and I fear her father will go to drastic measures to find her, or else he will surely fall apart if she is not found. You know how he can be about her._

 _Please, if you have heard anything about what happened, notify us immediately. All we want is for her to come back to us._

 _The last time we saw her was shortly after the conference with Venaria. The King and his eldest son had been to visit several times, but on their most recent visit it was just King Adolphus. Maka had always been uneasy around them, but halfway through their stay she began to avoid the King altogether, something that seems very unlike her, as you well know._

 _Maybe I'm wrong he has nothing to do with the situation, which is why I can't confront him directly. All I know is Maka would never just up and leave without a reason, and I fear it has something to do with them._

 _I would not ask for such a favor if I did not know that you two were so close. She is my absolute best friend, and I cannot imagine what could befall her. Please, if you care about her at all, help us find her._

 _Your friend,_

 _The Lady Tsubaki Nakatsukasa_

The young Duke crumpled the paper in his grasp, symmetry be damned. He could feel rage boiling behind his eyes as his vision clouded. He had hoped that Maka had not been answering his recent letters due to some miscommunication.

He growled at the crumpled letter, burning holes into the parchment. The noise was enough to startle the maid that was clearing away his breakfast and she almost knocked over his teacup in surprise. Kid shot her a look and she mumbled an apology before scurrying out of the breakfast room, the tray held tightly in her grasp.

 _Gone. Gone where? And what could Venaria have to do with this?_ Kid asked himself in confusion as he tried to calm himself. It wouldn't do any good for him to be unable to help his friend in her time of need if he acted rashly.

Memories played in his mind of the blonde haired princess. She was fragile and ethereal, and strong as steel. She was the first friend he ever made, the first person to take him seriously during one of his symmetry tirades. Maka never brushed him off when he needed her.

And now she needed him.

Venaria was only a few days ride South of his estate, the country lying closer to the seashore than Maka's home. In fact, Morte stood almost perfectly in between the two countries, with land overlapping in both regions, due mostly to the vastness of it.

Kid had been to the Rose Palace of Venaria on numerous occasions for hunting parties, though he despised hunting himself, and social events. He knew the Princes, both the heir and the spare. Though he remembered Wesley being a bit of a rake, he seemed harmless to Kid, and Soul was barely around to cause any trouble that Kid could see. To Kid, there was no reason for Maka to be in Venaria.

 _But if that's what Tsubaki thinks, then there must be something. Just hold on Maka, I'm coming to save you. Wherever you are,_ he promised, curling his fingers into a fist, _I will find you. I won't let anyone hurt you, ever again._

And the young Duke was known for keeping his promises.

 **Responses:**

 **QuantamTheory: Thanks for the review and the compliment. I always feel like I have such a hard time ending a chapter since I want it to feel complete, but still be open enough for the next one.**

 **OtakuHiyori: Why thank you! Hopefully this chapter added some more interest.**

 **Analaa: Yeah you and me both.**

 **Nicole143mb: Sweat not sweet child!**

 **Whit265: You asked for a longer chapter . . . and I gave you a shorter one. Wow I'm a bitch. I PROMISE they will get longer, I just really needed to post this.**

 **ChickenLittle1234: I hope to have another chapter up this week.**

 **A/N: Okay, you can all say exactly what I'm thinking. I'm a huge bitch for not updating for so long. I promise I really wanted to, and I actually started this chapter months ago. Not only that, but chapter 5 has been done since I posted chapter 2 (but surprisingly chapter 4 is not done yet. hmmm.) I will do my best to catch up on my posts this week, so thank you for your patience. I'm glad to have finally introduced Kid to this story, since he is my favorite and all (Don't worry you SoMa shippers, it'll still be SoMa!) Anyway, chapter 4 should be up this week, as long as nothing crazy happens.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Impatience

Prince Wesley had never been the most patient of men.

Really, he took after his father in that aspect.

He was the epitome of princely; handsome, intelligent, charming.

And most particularly, arrogant.

Whatever Prince Wesley wanted, he got. Nothing stood in his way.

Nobody denied a Prince, especially one destined to be a King one day.

And, of course, anything he could not outright demand, he won through persuasion.

Among his talents, he boasted his hunting prowess. Nobody had ever brought more stags down in a hunt than the eldest prince. Whether this was due to the prince's superior skills or the fear of the other hunters in angering their future sovereign, the matter would be up for discussion.

Naturally, he was charming. He charmed courtiers and servants alike. Some into doing his bidding and dirty work. Others into his bed. Nobody was safe from the Prince, especially not the slaves.

Slaves were never in the position to refuse. Even if they wanted to, they could not reject such an influential and powerful person.

If Wesley could be given any redeemable quality in his actions, it would be in his fairness. All lovers were treated fairly. They had to be willing, and when they were sent away, they were compensated duly for their "services rendered to the crown." If a child were to ever be born from a coupling, though it would not be claimed officially, any offspring of Wesley's would be provided for.

Of course, there was one exception to this rule that Wesley had set for himself.

 _Did she think I wouldn't recognize her?_ he smirked to himself, a hand ghosting over one of his hound's ears in the closest gesture he would ever come to a caress.

Because if Wesley loved anything, it was his dogs.

The only thing more coveted than his precious and prized hunting hounds was power. But as an heir to a kingdom, he had nothing to worry about in that department.

Soul was no competition, truly. His younger brother cared nothing for the court life, and although Soul was arguably intelligent, his personality suited that of a prince of the court, not that of a king.

Wesley crossed his left leg over his knee as he leaned back on the red velvet cushions in his lounge.

His hair fell attractively around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. Yes, the young heir was certainly handsome. His face was enough to lure so many women of the court to his bedchamber.

And yet, one had withstood his advances.

One _girl,_ with her _morales,_ and her _rules,_ had denied him.

But this girl, she was no ordinary girl.

No, this girl was a _Princess._

And she was raised to be a princess.

Where normal girls were taught basic reading and writing, this girl learned languages and studied philosophers.

When normal girls learned mending and household chores, this girl was taught economics and trade commerce.

She was traveled and well read, intelligent, witty, and clever.

She was his equal.

Because doesn't an attractive and intelligent prince deserve and equally attractive and intelligent princess? When Wesley found this Princess, he saw an opportunity.

Unlike most princesses, this girl stood to inherit more than money and a few tracts of land. This girl would inherit an entire kingdom, a rarity to find for the time.

Not only that, this girl was perfect for him. She was beautiful, though not in the way his past conquests were.

She was fragile, delicate, angelic even.

How would it feel to be the one to ruin such a beautiful and innocent creature, he often wondered to himself.

A smile ghosted across Wesley's lips.

Oh yes, he was going to make her squim for rejecting his pursuits.

Because now that tables had turned, and they were heavily in his favor.

00000000

As Soul parried his blade, twirling it around his opponent's, a guard that he was training, his mind kept drifting back to the events of that morning.

He thrust his blade forward, a resounding clang coming from the metal as the swords met again.

Really, how people treated slaves was none of his concern.

So, why did it bother him so much when the guard in the hallway had slapped her?

 _I never thought I would be so possessive over my things,_ Soul mused to himself, dodging an attack from the guard.

He was training one of the newest recruits that morning, a young man raised in one of the nearby villages. The soldier seemed a little lost, but his skills with a sword were decent for such a new soldier.

The blonde youth flashed a grin at the prince, which he quickly returned.

Soul pushed his weight against the blade as they held at a standstill. "How are you holding up, Hiro?" Soul asked a lazy smirk resting on his face.

"Better than I would be if you were actually trying to win," Hiro answered through gritted teeth.

"Hey now, this isn't about me winning, it's about you learning."

And with that, Soul shifted his stance and angled his blade, turning it until Hiro's flew out of his grip and the sword fell to the ground with a sharp sound.

A chuckle escaped Soul's mouth as he reached down to pick up the handle of the sword. As he handed the weapon to Hiro, he couldn't help but compliment the soldier. "Not too bad. Not great, but not bad. We'll whip you into shape in no time," he drawled as he clapped the man on the shoulder. "Go see the General about your placement."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and don't worry if he yells at you. He's not mad, he's just obnoxiously loud. If he wasn't one of the most gutsy fighters around, no way in hell we'd keep him," Soul mused as he sheathed his own sword in the safety of it's leather scabbard.

As Hiro left the training facility in search of General Black*Star, Soul couldn't help but anticipate the bath that awaited him. After a long ride and a round of training with the newer soldiers, the young prince had to admit that he was not accompanied by the greatest of smells.

Hopefully Maka had finished drawing one for him. It would sure as hell make his life easier.

Soul couldn't help but grimace when he thought of the hit she took this morning. And what had that guard said about roaming around without a collar?

Though it would probably be more trouble than it was worse, he should get her a collar.

He hung his head in shame when he thought about how the violence exuded towards the girl had been because of his carelessness. He had thought that he was doing an act of service, an act of kindness in not putting more chains on her, but in fact, his actions had only caused her pain.

He would have to do something to fix that. She shouldn't be beaten for his inability to be a proper master.

"Well, I guess I better go see the metalworker," Soul grumbled to himself. "Hope he doesn't mind the way I smell," he said, his face souring.

If Killik had a problem, he better not voice it.

The walk to find the smith only gave Soul more time to berate himself for his actions. _Stop caring so much, she's just a slave._

Ten minutes later, Soul find himself standing in front of one of the finest metalsmith's in the kingdom; Master Killik Rung.

The large man turned toward the Prince when he entered the forge, a pleasant smile plastered on his broad features. "What can I do for you today, Your Majesty?" Killik asked, albeit gruffly, as he checked the temperature of one of the fires again.

Soul stopped just past the doorway, not wanting to get too close from the overwhelming heat of the fires. "I have a commission for you."

Killik raised a brow, his eyes sparking with interest.

"For?"

"A collar for a slave. But it needs to be lightweight, not like the heavy ones they usually wear. And I want my insignia on it, just as extra insurance. You still have a copy of it, right?"

The metalworker nodded, putting a gloved hand to his face, wiping sweat from his forehead. He wore a lot of leather to help protect his skin from the heat of the flames, but it made it pretty damn hot in the forge sometimes when the furnaces were really going. "Is it just for the neck, or do you want wrist and ankle shackles as well?"

Soul shook his head as he envisioned Maka bound by such heavy metals. Her delicate bone structure would be crushed if she endured the same kind of treatment again. "No, just one for the neck, I guess. I'm not worried about her running away."

Killik looked at the young Prince thoughtfully for a moment, surveying his body language.

Frankly, Soul looked tired, like he was weighed down by his own worries. The smith couldn't understand why since he was not expected to inherit the throne, so most of his life was lived in idleness.

"And you said lightweight?"

Soul nodded again. "Nothing heavy that would be uncomfortable to have for long periods of time. Nothing that will leave a scar."

"So you want something more like a chain then, huh? I could put your crest on a stone. That might be the best way to do it."

"Do whatever you need to. Cost isn't an object, just have it ready as soon as possible."

"Why the rush, Your Majesty, if I may ask?" Killik asked as he gestured for one of his assistants, a small girl with pale yellow hair and wide eyes, to write down the specifics of the order and find the copy of the Prince's seal on file.

Soul shrugged as he slide his hands into his front pockets, allowing his body to relax as he leaned against the doorway. "She's safer with that, I think."

"She?"

"My new slave." A hard look passed over Soul's eyes, one that did not go undetected by the metalworker, and thin line was formed on his mouth as though he was gritting his teeth.

Killik pulled off his gloves as crossed his forge to stand closer to the Prince. "I didn't know you had taken any slaves into your household. I suppose word has not reached these parts as of yet," he smirked as he sat on the edge of one of the tables facing the white-haired prince.

Soul turned his head and seemed to recede further into himself, a far-off look in his eyes. "I didn't plan on it. She was kind of forced on me, actually."

"And you decided to keep her?"

"Well what else is there to do with her?"

"Send her to someone else. I'm sure one of the noblemen could find a use for a female slave."

The Prince recoiled as though he had been hit. He sent a sharp look to the metalworker, meeting Killik's even gaze. "Why would I do that? She's my slave now, and she's going to be under my jurisdiction as well as my protection," he sneered as he curled his hands into fists at his side.

Killik put his hands in front of him. "Easy there. Hence the reason you want her to have your insignia. If people know she belongs to you, they won't mess with her for fear of what you'll do. Not a bad idea. I'm still not convinced you really need to go that far for a slave, but she's your property so do what you want."

Property. She was his property.

The idea still felt strange to Soul.

Owning someone else, despite his upbringing, was still contrary to his nature. But he certain didn't like the idea of someone else owning his emerald-eyed slave.

She and her natural grace and her soul-searching eyes. She was so damn _alive._ He wondered how she managed to live like that. He had only seen her a few times and he already felt as though he understood something her that few people knew.

Maka might look fragile, but she wasn't.

And he was going to find out why.

 **A/N: Okay, slightly longer than the last chapter, and the next chapter is already written (Has been for a few months actually) and will be posted next week! You guys rock with your lovely reviews!**

 **Responses:**

 **SempiternalDreamer: Don't worry, our author crush is mutual! And thank you! I think most of my work seems like mine because it's so deadpan and sarcastic, something I've noticed with my more recent stories especially as I become more comfortable writing with my own voice! I love your stories and every time I see that you updated I feel this need to post something too! Haha, we need to get out asses in gear and post more! I literally cannot wait for your questions to be answered!**

 **NickyDawn: How did you know chocolate chip was my favorite? Are you a mind reader? Thank you, and I'm glad you loved it!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Pretty Things

Soul held the chain in his hands, the metal cool against his skin. But this was no ordinary chain, for it had a very specific purpose.

He held his breath as he pushed aside the heavy wooden door that led to his chambers.

As an owner, he had a responsibility, a role to play. And it included the chain.

She was across the room, sweeping up dirt and dust from the stone floor. She had piled up all of the plush red carpets in a corner in an effort to clean up everything. Maka knew slaves had to be useful.

When she heard the door open she startled and turned toward it. A small smile graced the girl's thin face. "How was your day, milord?" she asked quietly.

There was no animosity in her voice, no anger or vengeance. It was as if the girl had a newfound acceptance of her life, her confinement.

Maka continued sweeping, no longer paying attention to her master. As she slid the bound straw across the floor, picking up dust in it's wake, she felt warm hands slide across her neck.

She tensed but she did not move or turn, silently counting the seconds that passed in her mind.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

 _I thought he was different,_ her mind cried. _Does he not see? He thinks that because he owns me on paper that he owns me in truth._

But then the warmth was replaced by cool metal. Her ash blonde hair was brushed aside to adjust and straighten the chains.

Maka sniffled slightly as she felt the weight of the pendant on her collarbone. Confusion settled in as her tears dried. She touched reached up and touched the cool black stone, her mouth at a complete loss for words.

"You remember what the guard said the other day, right?"

She shivered slightly, trying not to remember the pain. A slight nod of her head indicated that she did indeed remember the incident.

Soul saw her nod and decided to continue, crossing to the washbasin near the door. He poured water into the basin, grabbing a towel from the nearby shelf. "Well he said you didn't have a mark and that put you in danger."

Maka turned toward him silently, but his back was to her. She regarded his frame with wide emerald eyes. There were scuff marks on his boots and his leather vest looked worn. All of his clothes seemed well made but not fancy, with an elegant simplicity that suited the carefree prince.

She traced the outline of the red, silver, and black scythe etched into the obsidian stone. It was his individual crest as a prince of the land, a combination of colors borrowed from both his parent's family crests. Behind the scythe was a snow white wolf, howling as wolves are bound to do.

"Thank you," Maka mumbled in appreciation.

Most slaves were bound with simple chains, it was uncommon for one to be given a mark that comfortable. Though many of the more wealthy slave owners gave slaves some sort of insignia so it was understood who they belonged to, they were not usually beautiful pieces. Commonly, they were crudely cut of rough materials, adding to the discomfort of the slave. But Maka's chain was gold and evenly inlaid, the stone resting comfortably just below her collarbone so it could be easily seen. She wore no shackles on her wrist or ankles, something she was grateful for. Most could expect to at least have one bound on their legs to hinder them if they tried to run away.

Soul scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his back still to her. "Yeah, well, I couldn't have anyone else take my property," he snorted arrogantly.

The silence that met his remark was almost tangible.

Soul had expected another thank you for his kindness after what he had done, and instead he received nothing. He turned to face his slave, anger quelling within his chest.

The prince was silenced when he saw her.

She was trembling.

But not with fear or frustration as he had seen before.

No, she was shaking with _rage._

And if he had to take a guess, it was probably at him.

He took a step back, backing into the table and knocking the basin to the side.

" _Property?"_ she hissed, her words full of venom. Maka's green eyes narrowed into slits and she clenched her fists at her sides. No, he was not different than any other man. He still assumed that he owned her, that he was her master.

The idea was almost laughable to anyone that had grown up with this jade-eyed girl. She was clever and intelligent and incredibly gifted in many ways. She held people in the palm of her hand, and yet this _boy_ thought that because she wore a pendant that he was now her lord and master?

"Well yeah," the white haired boy responded casually, slipping his hands into his pocket. "Aren't you?"

The look of unquenchable rage told him that it had been the wrong statement to make.

Because he was right. In this situation, he owned her. She, the girl who had been independent her whole life, the girl who had worked tirelessly to never be owned by another person, was now in the possession of this spoilt prince. At least for the time being.

She didn't say anything, meeting his words with an unbreakable silence. Her jade eyes bore into his with a look of utter hatred and Soul felt a sort of ache in his chest.

After a moment she looked away, dropping her eyes to the floor as she resumed sweeping. "Yes," she said with an exhale. "Yes I am."

He couldn't bear the look of defeat on her face. The girl who had stood up to a king, the girl who walked with grace and dignity, who had just moments before trembled with rage, looked absolutely emotionless.

And it was his fault.

"You can't make me feel bad for this," he rationalized. "You _are_ my property. You were a gift to me, and I own you." He knew that didn't sound much better, but it was the absolute truth. She was a gift to him, something he owned now.

She didn't respond, just turned away to continue piling up dirt to be swept away.

"Besides, I could've given you something worse. At least this chain is comfortable, and I don't make you wear anything on your wrists or ankles. You should consider yourself lucky," he snarled at her lack of appreciation.

The broom clattered to the floor as she turned quickly to face him. "Lucky?" she hissed. "You think I'm lucky?"

"Yeah, I'd say your are," he shot back, raising his voice. He stood to his full height, towering above the small girl. "I could have done far worse things with you as my property, but I've asked very little. And then I gave you that," he snarled, jeering a thumb at the pendant at her throat, "for your own protection. You'll stay in my employ."

Emerald eyes burned and Maka's blood boiled in her veins. How dare he?

"And it's pretty, right?" he continued quickly. He didn't like the look she was giving him, almost like she could explode him brain with her mind. "And girls like pretty things."

"Pretty things?" she spat back at him. The blonde girl's skin was flushed with rage and her breath came out in shallow spurts, a sure sign of her short temper. "It doesn't matter how many jewels you put on it, how finely made it is. It's still a collar, like what you put on a dog."

Her reaction stunned him to silence. He knew she was right. He was collaring her like one of his prized wolfhounds. Any protection she received was for his benefit, not hers.

But he couldn't let her know that. "No, it's not," he insisted.

"Oh?" she asked with surprise, an idea forming in her head. "So what if I take it off? I'd be losing your protection, but I'm sure it'll be fine," she said, fingering the pendant.

"No!" he shouted in surprise. "You can't!"

Maka shot him another glare. "Right, because I'm your property. And I have to obey what you say because I'm your _slave._ So if you're going to be my master, at least be honest about it. Don't try and hide it behind the idea that you're worried about my safety. You're just worried about losing your property," she said through clenched teeth.

"Fine, if that's the way you want to see it, then fine. You're my property and I own you!" Soul shouted back at her. He looked almost feral, his shark-like teeth glistening in the light, throwing his arms out in anger. "But admit that you're better of with me than you would be in almost any other place," he muttered darkly.

The slave girl shook her head sadly, all the fight leaving her. Suddenly, her once fiery eyes looked so tired and worn, as if they wanted nothing more than to rest for hours on end. "You're right, sire. I apologize for my actions. I shall go fetch your dinner now, if you will excuse me." Before he could say anything else she had left, shutting the door quickly behind her, disappearing almost without a sound.

And once again, Soul was left alone with his thoughts.

00000000

"Trouble in paradise, hmm?" Wes murmured to himself as he saw the thin slave girl slip out of his brother's quarters in silence. The elder prince had heard shouts coming from the chambers and he couldn't help but smirk. Soul was never adept at handing people, especially the kind of girl as ill tempered as that princess.

If she hadn't been so beautiful, Wes like to think that he would have given up on her. But maybe he liked how difficult and stubborn she was.

She presented a challenge, one that he intended to win by whatever means necessary.

Wes had to admit that the current situation could definitely work to his advantage. First off, it left Maka without the protection of her family and status. Here, nobody cared about her lineage. That made her vulnerable. And now he could get what he could have the spoils of victory without the trap of commitment. It was perfect.

The only problem there seemed to be was his brother.

Word had spread about Soul's response to the violent situation with the guard. Clearly, the younger prince was protective of his slave.

No matter. There were ways around that.

00000000

Kid held his breath as he passed the drawbridge that led to the entrance of the castle. It had been awhile since he had been to see his friends and he couldn't help but notice little examples of asymmetry. He counted to ten silently in his head as he closed his eyes.

"Halt! Who goes there?" a guard called from just passed the gates. He held a large spear in his right hand and he wore the uniform of a knight of the realm.

The duke silently pulled his family seal from one of his saddlebags, not bothering to get off his horse as would usually be expected. Being a duke certainly had it's benefits.

While the guard examined the seal, Kid couldn't help but sigh. It had been a long day filled with travel and dusty roads. All he wanted now was to take a long bath and rest so that he would be prepared to look for Maka in the morning. Was that so much to ask for? He exhaled impatiently as the knight came back, handing the seal back with reverence.

The knight looked down respectfully when he spoke. "Forgive me your grace, I did not recognize you, nor was I made aware of your presence. Should I send someone ahead to announce your presence?"

Kid looked at the knight thoughtfully as he stuffed his seal back in his bag and pulled up the reigns on his horse. "Yes, thank you, that would be most appreciated. I had not bothered to send word ahead to Prince Wesley," he conceded as his horse stamped impatiently, shifting from hoof to hoof. Kid ran a hand through the stallion's mane in an effort to soothe him.

"I will send someone immediately with a message for the royal family. Shall I take your horse to the stables?"

The young duke looked down at his mount warily, noticing the exhausted stance and nodded as he slid from the saddle. "Very well. Lead the way, Sir-?"

"Mifune, your excellency."

"Mifune? It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you normally wield a spear?" Kid asked, eyeing the uncomfortable hold the knight was using.

Sir Mifune shook his head good-naturedly as he led the way to the stables, stopping only to relay a message to a fellow knight to send directly to the royal family. "No, I actually prefer the sword."

"A swordsman, I see. How interesting," Kid mused as he pulled his horse into an empty stall. Kid listened to the knight use vague cliches with mild interest while his mind kept swimming back to Maka.

 _Where could you possibly be?_

 **Bet you didn't believe me when I said it would be up in less than a week, huh?**

 **-Wri**


	6. Chapter 6 - Pushing Boundaries

Maka slid the door to Soul's chambers open quickly, a tray balanced on her other arm. The pendant still rested above her collarbone, much to her dismay, but she had decided it was for the best.

The less attention she drew to herself, the better. Frankly, attention was dangerous. It could get her killed.

Or worse. _The deal would be broken._

Maka shook the dark thoughts from her mind as she crossed to the low table at the center of the room, sliding the tray filled with rich foods that left a heady scent in the air. The strong smell of spices mingled with the warmth of the tray put the slave girl at a sense of ease while she began to light the candles in the room before the sun would set.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a throat being cleared from behind her. Maka turned quickly, shooting a glare towards the spoiled Prince.

Soul took a seat next to the table in front of his food. "Thank you for getting this for me, Maka. I'd much rather eat in here by myself than out there with Wes. He's kind of an ass after he's had some wine," he said awkwardly, trying to lighten the tense air.

He knew that she was still furious at him for calling her property, even if she didn't show it with anger. Instead, she showed it with silence. She seemed cut off and foreboding, completely devoid of emotion. How was it that in such a short time, he was already putting more effort into her happiness than he was putting in his own.

The Prince hated seeing her like this. She only been in his employ a few weeks, and the week of silent treatment had been unbearable.

The slave didn't answer verbally, instead turning back to the last of the candles that she had to light, allowing the oil to run through the fixtures that weren't using wax candles.

Soul sighed to himself, resigning to eating his dinner in silence. Fine, if she wanted to act like a child, then she could. As long as she didn't piss him off and stayed out of his way, he didn't care either way.

He could tell by the way she moved that she wasn't meant for this kind of life. She was trying to hide it, but it was obvious to him. She was graceful and delicate, unlike most slaves who moved as though completely devoid of emotion, usually because they hadn't been raised to have it.

 _But why is she here?_ he mused, allowing his mind to wander. _And where did she get that anklet?_

It was killing him not to know.

Maka watched him eat with disinterest, noticing how his gaze kept sliding over to her form where she stood quietly. She hoped that he would relieve her from her duties as soon as he finished his meal, which is why she stood watch instead of leaving or beginning another task.

A knock on the heavy wooden door brought them out of the uncomfortable silence. A messenger in a red cap entered, a flustered expression on his thin face.

He bowed quickly to the Prince, who nodded for him to give his message.

"Forgive me, your majesty, for intruding during your meal, but there is a message that comes directly from Sir Mifune of the Royal guard."

Soul raised an eyebrow and put down his fork, putting his elbows on the table and leaning forward in interest. "Go on already."

The messenger gulped when he saw the intense look from the Prince's crimson eyes. "Th-that is, Lord Kiddford, the Duke of Morte, has arrived to visit. He didn't send word ahead, but we have situated him in one of the nearby guest chambers for however long he chooses to stay in the Rose Palace. He is resting now, but he said he will see everyone at breakfast tomorrow," the messenger stammered uncomfortably. He barely seemed to have taken a breath in between sentences.

Soul nodded in surprise. Normally Kid would notify them of a visit beforehand since he liked to be so organized, but perhaps there had been a miscommunication. "Thank you. Now go," he said, flicking his hand towards the young man. With a short bow, the messenger made a hasty exit before shutting the door behind him.

As Soul turned back to his food, his eyes drifted over to his slave again, expecting to see a mask of indifference on her face. Instead, he was surprised to find her shaking her face completely white.

Confusion ran through the Prince's mind. She hadn't been like that until the message was delivered, and now Maka looked like she was struggling to breathe.

Soul stood up quickly from his seat, his fork clattering against his plate. "Maka? Maka? Are you okay?"

Maka looked up at him, her emerald eyes wide with worry. But the expression disappeared quickly as it quickly formed into her mask of indifference. He could see that she was biting her lip and taking deep breaths to calm herself.

She seemed afraid.

And that scared the hell out of Soul.

Maka wasn't afraid of the King, but she was afraid of that message? Something was wrong.

"Dammit, Maka. Answer me," Soul growled as he crept closer to the girl.

She shot him a disapproving look in response, but Soul kept walking until he was only a few feet in front of her. She refused to meet his gaze, instead choosing to glare at the floor disrespectfully.

"Maka."

"What?" she shot at him, finally meeting his eyes. She couldn't take the look in his eyes, as though he was actually worried about her.

He couldn't be worried about her, she was just a slave. A temporary and disposable plaything for his entertainment. And yet, the way his blood-red eyes lingered on her face made it feel like she was anything but.

"Answer me. What's wrong?," he sneered through gritted teeth, edging even closer to her. If he had to, he would force the answer out of her.

"Or you'll what?" she snarled back fiercely. "Have me beaten? Sent to someone else?" Maka sent him a withering stare, trying to hard to hold on the anger so she wouldn't feel the fear.

This was a dangerous game she was playing. She couldn't tell him why she was afraid. It put too many people in danger, including him. It would ruin everything. Maybe if she just pissed him off enough he would get frustrated and leave her alone.

But Soul wasn't one to take unanswered questions lightly.

He put a hand next to her head, leaning it against the wall as he drew closer. He towered over her by several inches, trapping her with an intense gaze. "Why were you so afraid of that messenger?"

"I'm not afraid of a messenger."

"Right, only the message he left."

Maka looked down, her silence giving Soul the answer he needed.

"Tell me."

"No," she snarled back at him, turning to step away from the wall. Before she could even move her foot, Soul used his other arm to push her back, pushing her small body against the wall gently. Maka let out a small squeak in response as she felt her back press against the wall she had just tried to escape from. "I don't care what you do, I'm not telling you!" she shouted at him. "Threaten me all you want, I won't do it."

Soul let out a sigh, but he didn't move his arms. "I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to send you away. We're stuck with each other now," he said, his eyes flickering to the pendant that hung around her throat. "But I don't want you to be like a normal slave, where you fulfill my demands obediently. We know pretty damn well that wouldn't work," he said with a chuckle.

Slowly, the prince pulled his arms from the wall, allowing his hands to slide into the front pocket of his tunic. "But let's be honest with each other. They're something you're hiding. And I'm not just talking about the message, but that's a good starting place. I'm not looking for your backstory, because frankly, I don't really care that much," he drawled.

"But if you're honest with me, I will always be honest with you. And who knows, maybe I could help you," he continued as he crossed back to his dinner that had been cooling during their entire exchange. "Because I think we both know, you weren't born to this kind of life, were you?" he said as he noticed the mysterious bracelet still clasped around her ankle.

The prince lowered himself to his seat, turning to his beef and onion stew, when her reply rang out.

"I know him," Maka admitted quietly.

"Hm?" he asked, putting his spoon down again.

The slave sent him a look before continuing, wringing her hands in front of her. "Kid, I know him. We grew up together."

"You must have to be able to address him without a title or even his full name," Soul replied with a grin. "How?"

Maka's face colored. "It doesn't matter," she said, looking away.

"Come on, Maka, don't do that! Just tell me. Passing acquaintances? Or something more interesting?" he mused when he noticed the blush spread along her cheeks. "If you tell me, I might be able to help you out, make sure you two get to see each other while he's here," he suggested, though the idea sent his stomach into small and unpleasant knots.

"He can't see me."

"Why not? Maybe he could help you. He has a lot of money and a lot of power. You might be happier if he bought you."

"Kid doesn't keep slaves, he thinks it's inhumane," she defended, a smug pout on her lips.

"Oh, does he? And you would know this because . . .?"

"Because I- damn you're good," she said with a low whistle.

Just like that, their slave/master relationship began to crumble. He couldn't treat her like something she wasn't and she couldn't pretend to be one any longer. They weren't exactly equals, and they both knew that had to keep up pretenses, but they could both see becoming friends.

After a few more minutes of unanswered questions, Soul finally conceded victory to the stubborn girl. "Fine, I will keep you out of sight when he's here. If it's that important to you, I'll make sure he doesn't even know you're here. It'll be like you never existed," he said with a wry grin.

Maka sent him a blinding smile in reply. "Thank you, Soul, thank you."

"I just wish you'd tell me why," he mumbled as she picked up his dinner tray and pulled it onto her arm.

A sad look crossed her face, the smile vanishing at his words. "One day, I will. I promise. I'll tell you everything."

00000000

Kid sat in one of the many music rooms in the Rose Palace, his slender fingers gripping the edge of his teacup as he sat uncomfortably on a, coincidentally, rose patterned sette chair. He couldn't help but grimace at the overall garish decor that surrounded, what with the cliche use of flowers in a setting known as the _Rose Palace_ of Venaria. The overall redundancy astounded him.

What surprised him further was that he was brought to one of the music rooms instead of the traditional audience chamber or a more informal drawing room or parlor room. If he didn't know that both Princes were both very musically gifted he would have found the use of such rooms completely absurd and unnecessary.

The young duke turned toward the door when he heard it slide open, a genuine smile resting on his face. He greeted his companion in the expected format, and a slight bow of his head, which was returned by his host.

"Prince Soul, how kind of you to join me after breakfast. I had hoped to see your brother as well. Will he be joining us?" Kid enquired, placing his teacup down on the matching tea set.

Soul shook his head as he took his seat, reaching for one of the scones. "No, Wes is a bit busy at the moment. Is there something in particular you needed to talk to him about?" Soul asked, his eyes appraising the man in front of him.

It wasn't the the Duke looked unkempt or disheveled. In fact, he looked as immaculate and put together as ever. And yet, something seemed off. He seemed more purposeful and anxious than usual.

"Not immediately, no, but I should like to see him before I leave," Kid answered, his finger tracing the rim of his teacup.

"So what brings you to Venaria, if I may ask?" Soul inquired levelly after swallowing the last bite of the scone.

Kid nodded, clasping his hands together in his lap and leaning forward. "I'm looking for someone, actually, and a friend of hers informs me that she may be residing somewhere in Venaria."

The prince had to admit that the duke's statement piqued his interest. "Why would they be in Venaria?" he asked confusedly.

"I don't know, but I'm sure she'd have a reason. She's a smart girl, she wouldn't go somewhere so far just for fun," Kid admitted plainly as he rested his elbows on his knees. His dark hair fell into his face as he spoke, shading his eyes from the sunlight coming from the window.

"You're looking for a girl?" Soul inquired, an alarm going off in the back of his head. "Tell me about her."

Kid looked up, making direct eye contact with Soul. "Can I trust you to keep this information strictly confidential? I wouldn't involve you, except I think I may need your help in finding her as this is not my native country."

The young prince returned his gaze steadily, his gut twist and clenching in anticipation.

"Her name is Maka. She has ash blonde hair, green eyes, and the sweetest smile you've ever seen. She's just younger than me, and she's small. Not necessarily short, but thin and fragile looking, only she isn't. She can throw with a lot of force," he concluded with a dark chuckle.

Soul's heart hammered in his chest and he felt all the color drain from his face. _It couldn't be, could it?_

"And how do you know this girl?" Soul choked out, his fists clenched at his side.

Kid looked at Soul's clenched fists in confusion, but answered regardless, completely oblivious of the implication. "We're betrothed. We have been for years."

 **A/N: Dun Dun Dun! I know that'll piss some of you off because it's Soma, but what the hell, it's part of the plotline. I love this chapter so much because this is where it starts to get juicy and the secrets start to come out.**

 **Responses:**

 **LilyRDalton: Why thank you :)**

 **QuantamTheory: Oh Wes totally has it coming. You'll see what a bastard he is :)**

 **Mysteria Mystar'i: Uhhh, I'm not really sure, it just kind of happened. I mean, most royal and noble families do (My family included, actually) so I felt like Soul would too.**

 **-Wri**


	7. Chapter 7 - Red Stones

The wooden frame of the doorway shook as Soul slammed it shut loudly behind him. He scanned the room for his target, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of the long blonde hair.

With alarming speed, the prince rushed towards the girl, blood boiling in his veins. "Why didn't you tell me?" he shouted angrily at her.

The girl turned around in surprise, having just heard the door slam shut. Her pale green eyes met his angry gaze and she tried not to shiver. Instead, she chose to return his fire. "Tell you what?" she asked icily, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"That you're _engaged_ to Kid, the _Duke of Morte,"_ Soul said incredulously.

Maka stared back at him with wide eyes. "He said that?" she whispered. "Dammit, Kid," she muttered under her breath, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"Yeah, he said that. And that he's looking for you, unless you know another blonde-haired, green-eyed girl of your height named Maka," he sneered. "So why the hell are you here, if you're engaged to Kid?" he shouted back at her, the anger returning. Soul certainly had a hell of a lot of fight left in him, and he wasn't about to let her shrug this off. "The time for you to start answering my questions, is now."

The slave shook her head frantically. "No, I can't tell you! Nobody can know!"

"Well Kid sure as hell deserves to know, if what he says is true. Especially since he's been _searching for you_ ," he said resolutely. "Is what he said true?" he asked, his voice dropping dangerously low.

Maka finally looked up at him and he could see her inner turmoil. He could see that she wanted to share, to come clean and answer his questions. But she couldn't. Something, or someone, was holding her back.

Slowly, Soul edged closer to her, his gaze softening when he saw the tremor that coursed through his body. "Please. Let me help you. You and I both know that you don't belong here. Kid and I can help you, whatever has you here, between the three of us, I'm sure we can handle it."

He was so close to her, so very close. He could reach and touch her if he wanted to, and he had to admit that a part of him wanted to. Soul could feel the fear echoing throughout her bones, the anxiety lingering on her skin. "Is it true?" he asked softly.

Slowly, she nodded, simultaneously exhaling a breath that she seemed to be holding for ages. Her shoulders slumped and her face crumpled with her resolve. He could see her biting her lip, trying to keep the emotions from spilling over.

Soul kept their gazes locked as he hesitantly nodded in understanding.

"Kid and I have been betrothed since infancy. But I can't . . ." she trailed off, her voice shaking. Maka took another deep breath before continuing. "I can't marry him. It would put him in danger. And he can never know that," she insisted.

"Why would he be in danger? If you've been engaged for so long, your family must really like him."

Maka smiled wistfully at his comment. "Papa likes him, though he'd never admit it, and so do my sisters. The threat comes from someone he would never expect, and someone you would never expect. One of the few people that has more power than Kid or my own family," she said bitterly.

Soul shot her a confused look. "Your family?"

The prince felt an ache of nostalgia settle over him again. His mind flashed and a memory that had been begging to resurface for so long, finally settled.

 _He couldn't have been older than five when he handed the bracelet over. It was gold with inlaid rubies, and he held it tightly in the palm of his hand._

 _Soul nudged the girl in front of him who was crying on the ground, soft whimpers muffled by the hair that covered her face._

" _Hey Maka, I got this for you. So even when you go back home, you'll still remember me. See?" he said as he gently pried open her hand, sliding the jewelry into her palm._

 _The little girl looked up, her face tear-stained and her nose runny. When she saw the bracelet that her friend had put in her hand, her mouth quirked up and turned to a smile._

 _Suddenly, she threw herself at the young prince, knocking him over in a hug. Her arm went around his waist and she hugged him tightly. "Thank you soo much, Soul," she giggled in his ear._

 _Soul always thought girls were such a pain, what with their crying and their giggling. But somehow, when it was Maka, it was okay. In that one short summer, she had been his best friend._

 _When Maka found out she would be leaving in a few days, she became inconsolable. She had begged her mother to let her stay, but Queen Kami had insisted that they go visit Kid, the only child of one of her closest friends._

 _The little princess finally pulled herself off of her friend to kneel on the ground and look at her gift. Holding it up to her now disheveled friend's attire, she grinned as she looked between the stones and his eyes._

" _They're the same!" she squealed excitedly._

" _Huh?" Soul asked, rubbing his hand where it had hit the stone floor, wincing when he felt the bump forming._

 _Maka thrust the bracelet up to his face. "Your eyes are the same color," she pronounced matter-of-factly. "None of my friends have red eyes except you. That makes you special."_

" _That's why I picked those," he said. "So you wouldn't forget me."_

 _The little blonde held her wrist out, silently asking for Soul to put the bracelet on for her. Sighing, her fiddled with the clasp for a moment before letting it drop onto her wrist with a slight jingle._

" _I'd never forget you," she promised when he let go._

 _And somehow, Soul knew that she never would._

"You're _her,"_ Soul whispered, taking a step back in shock.

Maka's once tear-stained face grimaced in confusion. "What?"

Soul just shook his head in response, his eyes flickering to the chain on her ankle. The familiar stones gleamed up at him, the exact same shade as his eyes. How she'd managed to keep it this long in her line of work astounded him, but he was grateful for it regardless.

"You're _that_ Maka," he said incredulously, running a hand through his snow white hair.

Finally, Maka realized to whom he was referring to, as she noticed his gaze lingering on her bracelet. "You forgot about me," the former princess stated.

Soul placed his hands on his face, running his fingers over his eyes. "I'm sorry Maka," he said finally, removing his hands and allowing them to settle at his side.

"I never forgot about you."

Soul felt his heart ache at the lingering accusation in her voice. She had kept her promise and never forgotten him. And yet he, the one who had gone through all that effort, had forgotten her. What had that cost her?

"I'm sorry, Maka."

Maka chewed on her lip for a moment, clasping her hands behind her back. She had hoped that he would never remember her or their childhood together, the rational part especially.

But her heart was another matter entirely.

Soul hung his head in shame, his fists clenched at his side. "I let you down, didn't I?"

There was no response from the girl, instead she stared down at the ground, trying to keep the tears in her eyes from spilling over.

"Is this-" he asked tentatively, taking a slow step closer to her. "Is this my fault?" he asked.

He didn't want to know, but he had to. Had his lack of loyalty, his breach of character, caused more than just sadness for this girl. Was part of the reason she was no longer in the life she was raised for, due to his actions.

When she didn't answer, Soul knew.

He knew that she couldn't tell him the truth. Because it was his fault.

And she was too kind a soul to want to cause him the kind of pain that he deserved.

Soul reached out to touch her, needing to look into her eyes and _know,_ in a way that only those emerald orbs could convey without words, the extent of what he had done.

He tilted her chin up, pulling her focus towards him.

When he caught sight of the tears, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He wrapped an arm around her, crushing her small frame to his chest. He needed to be close to her, to comfort her, because that was all he could do at that moment. It was all he could offer her.

Soul didn't say anything, he just held her tighter as sobs wracked her body.

She was finally letting it go.

After a few moment, she grew still and quiet, and Soul knew the worst of the storm had passed.

Eventually, they untangled their limbs, taking shaky breaths as they moved to stand on their own.

Maka crossed to the washbasin, shuddering when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was red and tear-stained, her eyes still shining with unshed tears. But she knew she would rather die than keep crying.

Soul waited patiently for her to finish cleaning up and collecting her thoughts, something they both needed time to do. When she finally turned back to face him, Soul had to resist the urge to bring her back in his arms.

A few minutes later they were both seated facing each other on one of the sofas in his chambers.

Maka was the first one to break the uncomfortable silence that was settling over them.

"How much do you remember about me?" she asked, her gaze boring into him.

Soul gulped in response, leaning forward in his seat in discomfort. "Well, your name is Maka Angelus Albarn, the eldest princess and heir of to the throne of Emerelli. You are currently engaged to Kid of Morte, and for some strange reason that you won't tell me, you're living as a slave in my household, given to me by my father. Is that good enough for you?"

The former princess had to admit that she was impressed. "Anything else?"

The prince nodded. "I think it's my fault, but I'm not sure," he admitted.

"No! Don't you ever say that!"

"But it is, isn't it?" he shouted back at her.

Suddenly, Maka was very close to his face, her gaze burning in determination. "Don't you ever think that my situation is your fault," she hissed. "There is nothing you could have done to help me. I made my own choice in this, and I stand by it."

"To be a slave, Maka? You're a damn princess! You were taught that people were meant to bow when they met you, to fight and die for you. And now, you live at the beck and call of others. If they hurt you, it doesn't matter because they don't see you as a person," he snarled back at her. "You didn't choose this for fun, I know you better than that," he huffed.

Maka still hadn't moved from his spot, her face just inches from his own. He could feel her breath on his face, stirring the hair around his ear. "I did what I had to do to protect the people I care about. I gave my word, and now I stand by it," said resolutely.

Somehow, in that moment, Soul knew that she wasn't going to tell him directly why she was there. She wasn't going to tell him who she was protecting, or what it had to do with him.

It seems that Soul was just going to have to find the answer on his own.

 **A/N: Ugh I love this chapter. FINALLY SOUL REMEMBERS MAKA. I cannot wait until I get to reveal Maka's motives, and finally explain everything. I know it's killing some of you, but trust me, it's better to wait for it instead of just dropping every bomb at once. I wasn't planning on updating this soon, but when I saw how many followers I got after the last chapter, I decided I had to post something TODAY.**

 **Responses:**

 **QuantamTheory: Squealing to KiMa shipping is completely acceptable, even when the story is SoMa.**

 **LilyRDalton: Well I hope you liked Soul's reaction. I promise the deal will be explained. I know I keep dropping hints and little details, but there will be a big explanation coming up soon!**

 **PawPrint05: Thank you! I love writing this story, but I'm always afraid of getting lost in the details :)**

 **Kikyo2180: I love bomb-dropping. I actually set up stories for periodic bomb-dropping to keep things interesting and so you have something to look forward to and try and figure out for yourself. :)**

 **MeadowsMan: Yes, I don't normally see Wes as a villain, but in this case he fit the spot perfectly. He isn't the only antagonist, but he is certainly a very important one. There's a very key one we haven't seen in 6 chapters, but he'll come back to take his place soon.**

 **tmntgirl619: Cliffhangers are my shit.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Falling For You

"So Kid, what brings you to Venaria?"

The Duke of Morte looked up from the letter he was writing, a serious expression on his face. Though he usually enjoyed seeing the older prince, something about him seemed different this time. As though he was hiding something.

Kid leaned back in his chair, setting his quill down on the ink stand. "Wesley, can I not just come to see my friends?" he asked pointedly.

Wes looked amusedly at his friend, a sinister smile on his lips. "You certainly can. You just usually announce yourself ahead of time. You're not really one for surprises."

Kid nodded in agreement, knowing that he was known for planning ahead substantially.

Though he had always felt compelled to confide in the older prince in the past, he was holding back this time. He remembered the conversation he had had with Soul the day before.

" _Don't tell anyone what you've told me. If what you say is true, she might be in danger. Keep it between us until I can find out more," Soul begged, concern dripping from his voice._

 _Kid agreed, though he did ask a following question. "What about Wes?"_

 _Soul shook his head. "No, not even Wes. This sounds very serious, so we should keep the people involved as few as we can, for her sake," he pronounced in hushed tones._

 _The meeting had ended with them agreeing to meet the following evening in the garden to discuss further details in a more discreet location._

The young nobleman's mind turned back to the prince before him. "No, not usually. But truthfully, I was growing tired of Morte and decided to take a short vacation, per se. I've always loved the Rose Palace this time of year," he remarked casually.

The answer seemed to satisfy the older prince for he hummed in agreement before pulling a book from a nearby shelf of the study. "Tell me, Kid, have you read _Le morte d'Arthur_ before?" turning the leather-bound cover over in curiosity.

"Yes, I have. Several times, in fact."

"It's a favorite of your betrothed, isn't it?" Wes asked, looking up from the tome. "You'll have to remind me, what was her name again?"

"Maka," Kid choked out, seeing the prince gingerly handle Kid's personal copy of a very precious belonging. It had been a birthday gift from Maka, complete with her own notes on the story, and a few poems that she had written between the margins. Kid treasured it and he wanted Wes to put it do _immediately._

"Maka? The Princess of Emerilli, right? Spirit's daughter?"

 _What is he getting at?_ Kid asked himself, noting the strange look on Wes' face.

"How is she?"

"She's fine," he answered, his face forming a familiar mask of indifference. "She's learning greek right now so that she can start reading new literature and original translations."

"How interesting," Wes drawled, setting the book back in it's place on the shelf. "When is the wedding?"

"We haven't set an official date yet, but we're thinking about next spring. We don't want to put it off much longer," Kid answered.

He was correct in that statement. Last he had spoken to Maka, they had been thinking about the following Spring as the wedding date, but that was months ago. He didn't even know if she was alive right now.

The white-haired prince smiled softly, his mouth curling in an uncomfortable gesture. "Well, I suppose I should be getting back to my paperwork," Wes drawled before heading towards the door. He turned back slowly, his hands on the silf knob. "Do give Maka my best when you next see her, will you?"

Before Kid could respond, he was gone, leaving the Duke with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

00000000

"Maka. Hey, Maka. MAKA!"

The blonde girl jolted awake, her emerald eyes wide as she was startled from sleep.

She certainly wasn't expecting a certain prince to be standing over her, nudging her with a book while she dozed on one of his sofas.

"Soul," she whined in protest. "Let me keep sleeping." Her jaw popped after an incredibly long yawn and Soul couldn't help but grin at the sight.

He shook his head at her, completely unrelenting. "Nope. Now come on and get dressed. We have things to do today you lazy ass," he said before turning and walking at the door to go grab breakfast.

The former princess couldn't remember having anything special planned, but the intriguing notion was enough to convince herself to roll off the sofa, albeit ungracefully, and head towards her own small room.

She slide on a clean grey serving dress, a common dress for slaves to wear. The material was coarse, but it covered her modestly, an idea that Maka found comforting.

By the time she was dressed, Soul had returned, two plates in his hand, loaded with fruit, fresh baked bread, and an assortment of cheese. He handed a platter to her, which she took gratefully, giving her a once over in her dress.

"Maka, are you really going to go out in _that?"_ he asked pointedly, gesturing to her dress.

Maka finished chewing on the bread she was eating, a look of confusion on her face. "Well what else would I wear?" she asked, tugging on the material.

Soul stood up, pushing his plate back on the table where he crossed to one of his wardrobes, rummaging through the drawers noisily. He quickly produced a pair of black tights and a grey tunic with an air of pride. The material was soft and worn, and clearly something the prince had worn years before, but had never bothered to throw away.

He tossed the clothes towards her, turning back to search for a vest and belt. He knew his boots would be too big for her, but they would be better than nothing.

Maka picked at the tunic carefully, her expression unreadable. "Soul, are you sure this is okay for me to wear?" she asked, her usually bright voice soft.

The prince walked back to her, placing the rest of the garments on the table. "Well a dress certainly wouldn't work for what I have in mind. And if we disguise you as a boy, it'll be easier to sneak out for a bit."

"Excuse you. You want me to look like a boy?"

"Well it's not like your body suggests differently," he countered with a smirk. "My old clothes should fit you fine."

Tossing the clothes aside, Maka took a loud bite of her apple. "I'm not doing it. I'll wear my dress," she demanded with a full mouth.

Soul sighed, scrunching his hair to his head. "Trust me, Maka, you won't like wearing a dress for this. It'll make things complicated. So please, just listen to me and put on the dress," he demanded.

"No," she responded tartly, taking another loud crunch from her apple.

Soul groaned in frustration.

"What's it going to take to get you to change into those clothes?" he asked, trying to quell his rising frustration.

Maka looked at him icily, placing the apple core on her plate. "Take back what you said."

"What I said?"

"About me looking like a boy. It was uncouth, vulgar, and I do not appreciate it," she responded frostily, reaching to pop a grape in her mouth.

Soul wanted to tear his hair out in frustration. Geez, could this woman not take a joke?

"Maka, it's really not a big deal. Who cares if you're flat-chested?" he groaned.

She shot him another dirty look, implying that he was really bad at the whole 'apology' thing.

She was definitely right.

"Fine," he conceded. "You're only kind of flat-chested, and you're still beautiful. Now will you go change?"

Maka sent him one of her radiant smiles before scooping up an armful of clothes and rushing to her bedroom to change, shutting the door behind her.

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves in the palace stables, opening the stall door for two stallions, but under Soul's ownership.

"You're saddling your own horse?" Maka asked in shock, reaching for the blanket to lay on her grey arabian.

Soul looked over at her, checking the stirrups and fastenings on his saddle before grabbing the bridle to lead his favorite hunter out of the stable. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked.

It was still early enough in the morning that the sun was just rising, the dew still settling on the grass, and the only occupants in the stables ate a steady diet of hay and oats.

Maka blushed a little, grabbing the bridle to follow him out. The look he sent her made her uncomfortable, to finally be the one making the offensive comment. "Well most of the men I've met don't. They're good riders, but the leave all the maintenance to others," she admitted, willing the blush down. She hoped she hadn't offended him.

"Kid doesn't."

"No," she admitted. "He doesn't. But Kid's not like most of the men I've met. He's. . . different."

Soul's grip on the bridle tightened and the horse whinnied in complaint, warning Soul to ease up.

When they reached the edge of the gate, Soul turned back to Maka. "We should mount here," he said, reaching forward and cupping his hands to help her, but the former princess ignored him.

Maka quickly stuck her left foot in her stirrup, placing her arms on either side of the saddle. She was determined to do this on her own.

As a princess, Maka had always been taught that she was delicate, that she was fragile. But she never really felt like that was true, choosing to do things on her own just to prove people wrong.

She was damn independent, and she liked being that way.

She didn't need help from anyone. Ever.

As she pulled herself up by her arm to slide her leg over, she felt her left foot slide in the stirrup.

Before she could register what was happening, she threw her arms out in a mad scramble, trying to keep her hold on the horse, but instead just made it worse.

She could feel herself falling and she braced herself, a squeak of fear coming from her mouth as she slid backward.

And suddenly, there was a pair of arms around her, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Maka leaned back, her head hitting Soul's muscled chest, something she was embarassed to admit that she noticed.

It took a moment for Maka to realize that Soul sitting on the ground, his legs thrown out in front of him, and she was practically sitting on his lap, his arms around her tightly. She could feel his warm breath ghosting over her neck while they both tried to understand what had happened.

The princess' face turned scarlet and she scrambled to get off of him, standing quickly to brush off any dirt or debris from her dress.

Soul's eyes stared up at her lazily as he slowly stood up. "Thought you could do it on your own, huh?" he asked, brushing off his pants.

"Yeah, well it's nice to do stuff for myself for once," she admitted, trying to avoid his gaze. "But thank you," Maka mumbled.

"Any time," he drawled. "So do you want my help or not?" he asked.

Maka quickly nodded, her cheeks only slightly red now. She place her foot in his hand, allowing him to push up as she flew into her saddle.

While Maka situated herself, tightening the cloak hood around her face to both conceal her identity and keep out the morning chill, Soul mounted his own horse quickly, grabbing the reins in the process.

They made their way through a side gate, Soul only bothering to nod at the guard who quickly scrambled to open the way for him.

Once they were out of sight of the castle, they pushed their horses into a gallop, heading quickly through the open space as the sun rose in the horizon.

 **A/N: Little bit of a filler chapter to help set the relationship between Soul and Maka, as well as remind everyone what a bastard Wes is and to remember how presh Kid can be. Next chapter will be hella cute with even more wonderful SoMa and SOME REVELATION OF TOP SECRET INFORMATION.**

 **Responses:**

 **tmntgirl619: I love me some KidXMakaXSoul. Because I ship all of the above so much.**

 **LilyRDalton: Message me or leave it in a review! I'd love to hear your ideas about what might be happening (Because not every detail is set in stone. If I love what you guess, I might use it!)**

 **Mysteria Mystar'i: One, then the story wouldn't exist :) Two, Kid lives closer to Maka and their parents are best friends. More comes out later as to why Maka would NEVER be betrothed to Soul or Wes because Kami wouldn't allow it.**

 **SempiternalDreamer: You're my favorite. You just are. Update whenever darling, because you're golden.**

 **QuantamTheory: I read your drabble and I loved it! (I think I reviewed, but I'm not sure. That might have been when ffn was being weird, idk) I feel highly honored that you said my story made you ship SoMa a little, since I know how hardcore you ship KiMa :)**

 **Nekoshy13: I freaking love flashbacks. They add so much to the story when they're well placed.**

 **Kikyo2180: Well I guess I'm glad to provide a tim ekiller . . . I think that's a compliment**

 **LovetheSun: I always sneak in a little KiMa since I just can't resist, and it seems you can't either.**


	9. Chapter 9 - Answers

"So where exactly are we going?" Maka asked impatiently, her fingers sliding through the mane of her horse.

Soul turned his head to look at her, a lazy grin across his face. "It's a surprise, Maka, don't ruin it," he chastised.

Maka felt her cheeks flush at his statement so she quickly pivoted her head straight forward to hide her embarrassment.

They continued the ride in silence, the only sounds coming from the wind as it whistled through the trees and shook their leaves gently, and the chirping of songbirds so early in the morning.

The sun had just crossed over the horizon when Maka began to shift uncomfortably in her saddle, her thoughts weighing heavily on her mind.

Soul, sensing her discomfort, slowed his pace through the forest. He pulled back slightly, allowing his horse to walk slowly alongside hers.

"What is it?" he asked.

Maka shook her head, her grip tightening on the reins. "I can't tell you," she muttered under her breath.

But he heard her.

"Maka, you can tell me anything," he reminded her, his usually bored voice taking on a softer tone. It scared the hell out of Maka hearing him sound like that.

She didn't know how much longer she could take it.

She was so completely and utterly alone, and she had been since she had left her home. That was the way it had to be.

And yet, here was Soul, a twist in the story that she never imagined, being so kind to her. Remembering their promise after all these years.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.

She bit her lip to keep the words from spilling out.

She was _not_ weak. She could handle this. That's what being a princess was about, standing strong, even when it meant standing alone.

Finally, Soul relented, turning his attention away from the frustrated girl. He dug his heel in just slightly to his stallion, urging him to pick up the pace.

They pushed through the foliage, the stone path turning to a barely beaten one of dirt and grass, clearly a path seldom used.

The trees became thicker, but light filtered in through the spaces between the trees to the East, casting a dimly golden glow over their path.

Suddenly, they burst through a clearing, the foliage giving way to a stone structure.

It was covered with vines and wildflowers climbing up the sides of the walls and columns. There was no roof over it, but the ground was covered in broken and cracked stones.

It was beautiful.

While the structure was clearly man-made, it blended so well with the natural surroundings that Maka couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when she saw it.

Soul turned to her at the sound, sliding off his horse in a fluid motion. He removed the bit and bridle, placing them both on the ground so that the horse could graze freely. The prince walked toward her, offering his hand out to her.

"Are you going to accept my help this time?" he teased, "Or are you going to fall on your ass again."

"I didn't fall on my ass last time."

"Only because I fell on mine."

"Not my fault," she teased back, taking his offered hand and sliding her leg over the saddle.

When her feet hit the ground, she found herself standing very close to him, their breaths mingling, their hands still clasped together. She could feel the warmth radiating from him,

 _Too much. Too much._

Maka quickly stepped back, allowing her mind to clear from the distance. As she pulled her hand gently from his grip, she could have sworn his grip tightened for just a moment, as if afraid to let go.

Taking a deep breath, Soul turned toward his saddebag, producing a few rolls wrapped in cloth, a container of butter, and two flasks of fresh orange juice. He handed a flask to Maka, taking the rest of the food to the covered area.

As Maka took a seat next to Soul, leaning against one of the columns, she asked the question that had been on her mind since their arrival. "What is this place?"

A somewhat wistful smile appeared on his face and the prince leaned back further against the column, his hand tearing a piece from the bread roll.

"The house my mother grew up in isn't far from here. She used to come here a lot when she was a child. She told me that it was built to be a stage for some event a long time ago, but hadn't been used since," he answered, eyeing the tendrils of flowers wrapped around the stones, embracing each piece tightly, as if to say that each stone was now a part of the scenery, bound to the ground.

"I don't remember your mother very much," Maka admitted, taking a bite of her breakfast.

"I probably don't remember much more than you," Soul said quietly. "But this place, it was her place. She used to take me and Wes here when we were little to have breakfast and watch the sunrise."

Maka thought for a moment on his statement. "So you decided to bring me here?" she asked carefully, her eyes placed firmly on her empty hands, the food long since eaten.

"Well, yeah," Soul admitted a little awkwardly, running a hand through his snow white hair. "I figured you would like it. And it would be place that you could kind of, I don't know, escape to when the palace became oppressive. That's what I do."

"Does-does Wes ever come here?" she asked, a tinge of fear echoing in her voice.

Soul shook his head. "No, Wes never really liked this place. Why?"

"You don't want to know," she said evenly.

She couldn't tell him. She couldn't burden him with her problems like that. Soul loved his brother, even if he thought was an ass sometimes, and Maka wasn't going to ruin that.

Better to bide her time.

"I'm getting really tired of seeing that look on your face," Soul said quietly.

"What look?" she asked incredulously. She had thought her features were a perfect mask of indifference.

But really, she shouldn't have been surprised that Soul could see right through her every lie. Maka would probably never be able to keep a secret from him.

"Don't act dumb," he demanded. He pulled away from the stone, turning to look directly at her. "You're a very smart girl, Maka, surely you know what I'm talking about."

When she didn't answer, he continued.

"I know you want to keep your secrets, but it's killing me that I can't help you! That's all I want, Maka. Whoever is hurting you, whoever is threatening you, tell me so I can fix it!" he shouted angrily, his body shaking with frustration.

Soul wasn't one to usually lose his cool, but when it came to Maka, he questioned whether he had any control over his emotions at all.

"It's not your problem to fix!" she shot back bitterly. She rose to stand and walk away from him, not wanting to continue the argument further.

The prince stood up quickly and followed her. "I don't care," he growled. "I can't watch this anymore. Why are you so afraid of telling me?"

Maka stopped walking, unable to take another step. She kept her back to him, trying to gain control of her emotions, but he was just so good at breaking down every wall she had.

"Is it Kid?" Soul asked tentatively. He reached out to touch her, but pulled back. His own question sending knots into his stomach. If Kid was the one threatening her, he would kill him. "I know you said it wasn't earlier, but I just need to hear it again."

"No," Maka relented quietly, her back still to him. "It not him."

Soul felt some of the tension leave his body at her statement. Of course the young duke would never hurt Maka. They were too close.

"Do I know them?" he asked next. He hoped, more than anything that she would answer his question with another definite no.

Instead, she stood in silence.

The prince swore under his breath, taking another step closer to her. They stood at the edge of the stone structure, the sun beginning to spread over the stone steps.

"Maka, do they live at the Rose Palace?" he asked carefully, dreading her response.

Silence is an answer that speaks louder than words.

"Who is it?"

"Soul, it doesn't matter. You wouldn't believe me anyway," she stated, unwilling to turn and face him. A shiver went down her spine and she pulled the cloak tighter around her small frame.

Soul's head started to spin.

" _I had an interesting conversation with Wes yesterday," Kid stated uncomfortably as he pulled on the cloth he was using to polish one of his swords._

" _Yeah?" Soul asked, his interest piquing. He was leaned against the doorframe of the armory, a place he had agreed to meet Kid so they could compare any thoughts on how to help Maka. He hadn't told the duke that Maka was within the palace walls yet, knowing that Kid would take her back to her family immediately, where whatever was haunting her would be sure to follow._

" _Quite strange actually. He kept asking about Maka, which I thought very strange as he's met her on numerous occasions."_

" _Really? I don't remember her coming here very often," Soul asked._

 _Kid stopped polishing the blade and turned to look at Soul. "Of course not. Wes and your father went to visit Emerelli almost every year. I could never understand why," he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "It wasn't as if Maka and Wes were ever friends. She hated him, actually."_

 _Soul's mouth turned into a lopsided grin. "Yeah, Wes thinks he's great, but he can be really . . . forward . . . at times. I can see why a princess like Maka wouldn't like him."_

The prince grit his teeth, his fists clenched at his side as his mind connected the dots.

Why Wes had come back from the last few trips seeming so frustrated.

Why Maka always went straight to Soul's chambers, never lingering in the family's wing.

Even why Maka would think that he wouldn't believe her.

"It's Wes," he choked out, looking up at the girl again.

Maka spun around, her emerald eyes wide with surprise and fear. "How did you-"

But Soul cut her off. "The answer was there all along. It's Wes, isn't it? That's who has been threatening you, and that's why you couldn't tell me," he challenged, reaching forward to grab her by her arms.

He knew his brother was a bastard sometimes, but to go so far as threatening Maka? He was going to kill him.

But another thought crossed his mind. "If Wes is the reason you're here, why didn't you end up with you?" he asked, his fingers tightening on her forearms.

She turned her face up to him, as tears slid silently down her cheeks. Slowly, she leaned into him, allowing her cheek to rest against his chest.

Maka berated herself internally for being so weak, for needing him. But going through this alone wasn't getting her anywhere. And worse, it was hurting someone that cared about her.

Soul instinctively wrapped her arms around her, pulling her closer to him. He began to run his hand up and down her spine, trying to stop her from crying.

He really wasn't good with crying girls.

"It's not just Wes," Maka admitted quietly, her face still burrowed in his chest.

If his face hadn't been so close to hers at the time, there's no way he would have caught her mumbled words.

As she began to pull away from him he cupped his hand under her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. He wiped a thumb across the tracks of tears on her face and she leaned into his touch. Closing her eyes, she relished the comfort she so desperately needed.

Maka took a deep breath before speaking, opening her eyes to meet his.

"Your father is the one who forced me to leave my home."

 **A/N: WHAT? Another cliffhanger? I think I'm starting to hate myself for that, but not enough to stop doing it.**

 **Responses:**

 **Mermain123: Honestly, I can't imagine not wanting to slap Wes in the story. Wes is fun because he's the kind of character that isn't really set in stone. I can make him whatever I need for the story (A crime, I know) without having to create a complete OC.**

 **QuantamTheory: Yeah, the "tiny tits" while still keeping with the time period has been kind of difficult. Honestly, dialect has been such a weird thing for me on this story, but I'm glad that you're enjoying it!**

 **Yeah, sometimes FFN gets kind of bitchy about posting stuff and I can never figure out if I'm doing something wrong or what.**

 **Nekoshy13: Anytime!**

 **YmaSumac: Wow, thank you! This has been a difficult story for me, but I've loved every step of it. It's actually a more advanced version of a plotline I used to use to play games with as a kid, believe it or not. (Though it certainly wasn't this dark or elaborate when I was 8 and I imagined the story!) So it's a story I've had literally YEARS to think about, which I hope shows in my writing.**

 **Tanima8: Yeah, I kind give Maka's secret out one chapter at a time since there's so many. I Hope that doesn't make you hate me!**

 **SempiternalDreamer: I feel like I've made Maka really emotional in this story, which pisses me off, so I have to give her these really badass independent moments to kind of balance her out. Even if they don't work out well . . .**

 **-Wri**


	10. Chapter 10 - The Beginning of the End

" _Oh, little bird, what a pleasure it is to see you again, dear princess."_

 _Maka felt her blood run cold at the honey-covered words being uttered by the prince in front of her. Regardless of her fear, her facial expression did not change, and she regarded the young man with a steady gaze._

" _Good afternoon, Wesley. We are so honored to have you here in Emerilli again."_

 _Prince Wesley was leaning against a pillar in the hallway that led to one of the libraries on the second floor of the Emerald Palace. He wore a tunic of deep blue and black trousers that were tucked into his boots. On his head with the golden crown that signified him as the heir to the throne of Venaria._

 _But it wasn't his attire that struck the princess as odd._

 _It was his demeanor._

 _While Wesley had always been devilishly handsome, he rarely wore an expression akin to the one he had at the moment._

 _As children of royalty, they were accustomed to schooling their features into masks of indifference, hiding their feelings to avoid conflict. But Wesley didn't look like he was hiding anything._

 _There was a smirk on his lips, as if he knew something that Maka didn't. His eyes were dark and hardened, narrowed into slits as he looked over the princess appraisingly, like a horse he was intending to buy._

 _The princess clasped her hands in front of her tightly as she looked for the nearest escape. She considered simply excusing herself and leaving the prince, but knew that her actions would be regarded as rude._

 _At her actions, Wesley's smirk widened. "Do I make you nervous, princess?" he asked with a sinister chuckle. He crossed the hallway, his boots creating a soft thud against the polished stone as he approached her. "I truly hope that isn't the case."_

" _Not at all, Wesley, I was simply admiring my engagement ring," Maka said sweetly as she lifted her hand up for the prince to see. On the gold band was a large diamond, surrounded by emeralds, the same shade as the girl's eyes._

 _Wesley looked over the ring with a sneer. "Ah yes, I do remember hearing about you engagement to Kiddford. Tell me, how is the young duke handling the loss of his father?"_

 _Maka's face whitened slightly, but her lips curled into a snarl. "He's doing well, and learning as much as he can about his kingdom. Now, if you will excuse me, I was headed to see my sister," she stated, sweeping past him without the customary bow._

 _The Prince's eyes raked over the girl's slim form as she walked away, noticing the lithe grace in her every step._

" _We'll see how long this "engagement" of yours lasts, princess."_

 _00000000_

 _Maka stood against the railing of her balcony, her fingers rubbing circles on her temple. Spending the day trying to avoid Wesley had been exhausting, and she couldn't wait for the prince and his retinue to head back to Venaria for another year._

 _Growing up, she had always disliked the elder prince, but he had seemed harmless. Sure, he would flirt with her occasionally, despite her well known betrothal, but it was always in a passive way so she never paid it much mind._

 _Unlike this evening, when his gaze had seemed almost predatorial. As though he wanted nothing more than to hunt her for sport. The thought made her shiver._

 _Wrapped in her nightdress after dismissing her maids for the evening, the princess wanted nothing more to settle in her bed for the night with a thick book._

 _As she turned to face the door, she let out a small gasp._

 _Standing in her doorway, was Wesley._

 _When her eyes widened in surprise, the prince leapt forward, putting his hand over her mouth before dragging her inside through the doors._

 _She tried to resist his grip, but it was too strong and Maka felt herself losing the battle. As he shut the door behind him with his foot, he angled her so that she was pushed up against the wall, trapped between him and the cold stone._

 _Maka bit down hard on his hand, causing the prince to pull back in surprise. The girl seethed in rage, her arms straight against the side of her body and her fists clenched tightly._

" _What the hell are you doing here, Wesley? This isn't exactly proper!" she hissed at him, letting her rage cover her fear._

" _Are you really going to marry him?" Wes asked suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. His burgundy colored eyes bore into hers and it took all of Maka's willpower to stand up to him._

 _This Wes wasn't casually flirting and he seemed sincere._

 _He seemed . . . hurt._

 _Maka shook the thought from her head. This was Wes. He didn't have a sincere bone in his body._

" _Yes, I am," she stated proudly, jutting her chin forward defiantly. "Now get out of my room."_

 _Wes shook his head and took a step closer to her. "No. I'm not letting you do this," he snarled at her._

" _You can't stop me, Wes. It's been set in stone for over a decade, and I'm very happy with the conditions. Kid respects me, he cares about me."_

 _The prince scoffed at her remark. "But does he love you?"_

 _Maka's lips curled in disgust at his remark. "You know as well as I do that love has no place in our lives, Wes. I'm lucky to get someone as good as Kid." Her eyes softened as she thought about how good Kid was to her._

 _She knew there would never be any Earth-shattering love in their marriage. But there was so much genuine affection and kindness in him, even with his eccentricities, that she knew it would be okay._

 _Wes put a hand against the wall just above her shoulder, making Maka tense. "I know you, Maka. All those books you read. You want love, princess. Real love. The kind that makes your knees weak and your heart pound," he whispered darkly. Wes wasn't looking at her anymore, his mind lost in thought._

 _Maybe that's what he wanted as well?_

 _The kind of devotion that transcends time and space, the kind of love that leaves you breathless and exhilarated with just one touch. That's what he wanted._

 _And there was nobody that made Wes feel more breathless and out of control than this slip of a girl, with her piercing green eyes and her enormous will._

 _She made him feel alive._

 _Wes turned his attention back to the girl, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "We could have that, princess."_

 _Maka resisted the urge to shove him away, knowing the action would only anger him and cause retaliation. Instead, she bit her lip and shut her eyes, trying to block him from her mind._

 _She felt sick to her stomach._

 _He was so different from his brother, or at least how Maka imagined his brother was now. Soul was sincere and genuine. In all the years Maka had known Wes, she had never seen a genuine action from him. Everything was plotting and manipulative._

 _So what did he want now?_

 _Was it her? Did he want her to sate his temporary desires whilst in her country?_

 _Or was he after something much more sinister? Was he after her throne?_

 _When Maka finally opened her eyes, she realized that Wes' gaze lingered on her own, his crimson eyes startling her with intensity with which they bore into hers. She bit back of a yelp of surprise, biting down on her cheek in the process._

" _Wes, you should go. This isn't appropriate," she said calmly, steele lingering in her voice._

 _The look he had been giving her, one that seemed to look right through her, slowly shifted from burning intensity to a mask of passivity. Reluctantly, he pulled away._

" _You're right, princess. Where's the fun in doing things this way?"_

 **A/N: Miss me? Yeah, me too. I missed you guys a lot, but I'm glad you followed the story and hopefully kept up with it. College has basically kicked me in the face, but I love it. Heads up, the next few chapters will all be in the past, covering the arc where we discover how Maka came to be in Venaria. I hope you guys love it! I know it's a short chapter, but I really wanted to introduce you guys to this arc in the story and post something because you guys have been so amazing!**

 **Side Note: I got a tumblr, feel free to follow me. My URL is acrossthestars. I'll try to keep the tumblr up to date on what's happening, so if you need anything, feel free to PM me. I check my messages almost every day! *Hugs***


End file.
